Chapter 2 – “The Enemy Who Knew Her Name”
The first thing Camila noticed was the silence.
Not the kind of silence that came from peace.
The kind that came after something terrible had happened.
The restaurant that had been filled with conversation, laughter, and the soft clinking of glasses was now frozen.
Broken wine bottles covered the floor.
Fragments of glass glittered beneath the dim emergency lights.
The smell of smoke drifted through the air.
And in the center of it all stood Lorenzo Moretti.
A man who had spent years building a reputation around one simple truth:
Nobody touched what belonged to him.
But Camila was beginning to realize something.
She was not just someone he wanted.
She was someone he feared losing.
And that frightened her more than anything.
Because Lorenzo Moretti did not look angry.
Anger would have been easier.
Anger was human.
What she saw now was something colder.
Something controlled.
Something dangerous.
“Lorenzo.”
Her voice barely reached him.
He turned immediately.
That surprised her.
A room full of armed men.
Security rushing around.
People shouting.
And somehow, he still heard her.
“Are you hurt?”
The question came first.
Not revenge.
Not the attacker.
Not the damage.
Her.
Camila looked down at herself.
A tiny cut marked her wrist where a piece of glass had brushed her skin.
“I’m fine.”
His eyes locked onto the cut.
His expression changed.
Barely.
But she saw it.
The small tightening of his jaw.
The slight movement of his hand.
Like he wanted to reach for her but was forcing himself not to.
“It’s nothing,” she said.
Lorenzo looked at her.
“Don’t say that.”
The firmness in his voice surprised her.
“It’s a scratch.”
“It’s your blood.”
The words were quiet.
But they carried something heavy.
Camila did not know what to say.
Nobody had ever reacted to her pain like that.
Not even people who loved her.
Before she could answer, Matteo Russo approached.
His face was darker than usual.
“Boss.”
Lorenzo turned.
“Report.”
“Two shooters. Rooftop across the street.”
“Alive?”
Matteo hesitated.
That hesitation told Camila everything.
“No.”
Lorenzo’s expression remained unreadable.
“Find out who sent them.”
“We’re already working on it.”
“And?”
Matteo looked toward Camila.
Then back at Lorenzo.
“There’s something strange.”
“What?”
“They weren’t aiming at you.”
The room became colder.
Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed.
“What did you say?”
Matteo lowered his voice.
“The first shot was a distraction. The second shooter had a clear angle toward her.”
Camila felt her stomach drop.
Toward her.
Not him.
Her.
“Why?” she whispered.
Nobody answered.
Because nobody knew.
Except Lorenzo.
Or maybe he suspected.
He stepped closer.
“Camila.”
She looked at him.
“You need to listen carefully.”
The seriousness in his voice made her straighten.
“You cannot go anywhere alone.”
Her eyebrows lifted.
“Excuse me?”
“This isn’t a request.”
The old Camila would have immediately become defensive.
The old Camila would have crossed her arms and told him nobody controlled her.
Actually…
The current Camila wanted to do that too.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but you don’t get to decide my life because someone shot through a window.”
Lorenzo stared at her.
Most people would have backed down.
She didn’t.
And something unexpected happened.
He almost smiled.
Almost.
“You’re angry.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
She frowned.
“Good?”
“I was worried you’d be afraid.”
Camila paused.
The answer caught her completely off guard.
“You wanted me angry?”
“I wanted you to stay yourself.”
The words hit harder than she expected.
Because somehow, Lorenzo Moretti was not trying to turn her into someone weaker.
He was trying to protect the person she already was.
And that was confusing.
The next morning, Camila woke up in her apartment with three missed calls from Sterling & Co.
And one from an unknown number.
She stared at the screen.
She knew exactly who it was.
Lorenzo.
She ignored it.
Then immediately felt guilty.
Which annoyed her.
She should not feel guilty ignoring a mafia boss.
That was a completely reasonable thing to do.
She made coffee.
She fed her cat, Biscuit.
She stood in her kitchen wearing pajamas and told herself she was going to have a normal day.
A normal day.
That was the goal.
Then someone knocked on her door.
Her entire body froze.
Because nobody visited her apartment unexpectedly.
Nobody.
Slowly, she approached the door.
“Who is it?”
A voice answered.
“Camila?”
Her heart jumped.
Not Lorenzo.
Aiden.
She opened the door.
Aiden stood there holding a coffee cup.
His expression changed immediately when he saw her face.
“You look exhausted.”
“Good morning to you too.”
He gave a small smile.
But it disappeared quickly.
“Are you okay?”
Camila stepped aside.
“Come in.”
Aiden entered and looked around her small apartment.
Unlike Lorenzo’s world of marble floors and private restaurants, Camila’s home was warm.
Books stacked everywhere.
Plants by the windows.
A tiny kitchen filled with baking supplies.
A place that felt lived in.
A place that felt like her.
“I heard about last night.”
Camila looked down.
“Of course you did.”
“Everyone did.”
She sighed.
“I’m fine.”
Aiden looked at her.
“You always say that.”
“Because I am.”
“No.”
The answer was immediate.
“You’re not.”
She looked up.
Aiden’s expression softened.
“You’re scared.”
She wanted to deny it.
But she couldn’t.
Because she was.
Not of the shooting.
Not exactly.
She was scared of something much more complicated.
She was scared of how safe she had felt when Lorenzo held her.
“I don’t know what to think,” she admitted.
Aiden was quiet.
Then:
“Did he tell you why they attacked?”
“No.”
“Did he tell you who they were?”
“No.”
“Did he tell you anything?”
She hesitated.
Aiden noticed.
And that hurt him.
“You like him.”
Camila immediately looked up.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“Camila.”
“No.”
She stood.
“He’s dangerous.”
“I know.”
“He’s involved in things I don’t understand.”
“I know.”
“He’s not someone I should—”
“Then why are you defending him?”
The question stopped her.
Because she did not have an answer.
Aiden looked away.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For being jealous.”
Camila blinked.
Aiden laughed quietly.
“I didn’t want to say it.”
“You’re jealous?”
“Of him?”
He shook his head.
“Everyone is.”
“That’s not funny.”
“No.”
His smile faded.
“It isn’t.”
A silence passed.
Then he said:
“Camila, people like Lorenzo Moretti don’t bring normal lives with them.”
She knew he was right.
But another voice inside her whispered:
Maybe Lorenzo never had a normal life to begin with.
Maybe he was just someone who had never been given the chance.
Three hours later, Lorenzo Moretti sat across from a man who was about to lose everything.
The warehouse smelled like rust and rain.
A single light hung from the ceiling.
Matteo stood beside him.
“His name is Victor Bellini.”
Lorenzo looked at the man tied to the chair.
Victor was sweating.
Terrified.
Good.
“Why did you target her?”
Victor swallowed.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Lorenzo stared.
A normal man might have shouted.
Threatened.
Lost control.
Lorenzo did none of those things.
That was what made him frightening.
“Try again.”
“I swear—”
“You sent two men to shoot at a woman you have never met.”
Victor’s face changed.
A tiny reaction.
But Lorenzo saw it.
“You do know her.”
Silence.
Matteo stepped forward.
“Boss.”
Lorenzo raised a hand.
“No.”
He leaned closer.
“Tell me why.”
Victor looked at him.
Then laughed nervously.
“You really don’t know?”
Lorenzo’s expression darkened.
“Know what?”
Victor smiled.
“That girl isn’t just some chef.”
The room went still.
“What does that mean?”
Victor laughed again.
“You never asked where she came from.”
Lorenzo’s eyes sharpened.
“Explain.”
Victor’s smile faded.
“Camila Williams disappeared for a reason.”
The words hit.
Hard.
Because Lorenzo had already investigated her.
Her background was clean.
Too clean.
Born in Chicago.
Raised by a single mother.
Pastry school.
Small jobs.
No criminal record.
No connections.
No secrets.
But now…
Something didn’t add up.
“What are you saying?”
Victor whispered:
“She doesn’t know who her father was.”
Lorenzo froze.
“And you do?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Victor looked directly at him.
Then said the name that changed everything.
“Anthony Williams.”
Lorenzo’s blood ran cold.
Because that name belonged to a ghost.
A man believed dead for twenty years.
A man who once controlled half of Chicago’s underground world.
A man whose empire had nearly destroyed Lorenzo’s own family.
“No.”
Victor smiled.
“Yes.”
He leaned back.
“Your little chef isn’t a random woman, Lorenzo.”
“She’s the daughter of the man who almost killed yours.”
Silence filled the warehouse.
And for the first time in years…
Lorenzo Moretti felt something worse than anger.
Fear.
Because now he understood.
The attack was never about making him angry.
It was about finding her.
Camila.
The woman who had walked into his life with flour on her hands and kindness in her heart.
The woman who had no idea that her blood carried a war that had started before she was born.
That night, Lorenzo stood outside Camila’s apartment building.
Alone.
No guards.
No bodyguards.
No empire.
Just him.
He looked up at her window.
A small light was on.
She was home.
Safe.
For now.
His phone rang.
Matteo.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We confirmed it.”
Lorenzo closed his eyes.
“Confirmed what?”
A pause.
Then:
“Camila Williams is Anthony Williams’ daughter.”
The city continued moving around him.
Cars passed.
People laughed.
Rain fell.
But Lorenzo heard none of it.
Because the one woman who had made him feel human…
Was connected to the one family he had sworn to destroy.
And now he had a choice.
Protect the woman he loved before he admitted he loved her…
Or protect the empire built from everything he had lost.
Lorenzo looked up at Camila’s window.
And whispered:
“I’m sorry.”
Because he already knew the answer.
May you like
He would burn everything down before he let anyone hurt her.
Even if that meant destroying himself.
